


Golden Hour

by dumbisexual



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: AUTHOR SEONGHWA, Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Choking, Depression, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, STRIPPER YEOSANG, Sexy Times, Stripping, Tbh they both are, chanyeol is the pole, for who tho is the queston, lapslock, mingi is baby, perhaps a wedding, pink yeosang, seonghwa is awkward
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-01-03 05:33:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21174248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dumbisexual/pseuds/dumbisexual
Summary: park seonghwa isn’t going through an early midlife crisis at the ripe age of twenty-four. he’s not, no matter what wooyoung likes to say.OR seonghwa has a massive case of writers block and takes it to a beach house where he meets his pretty pink haired neighbor that might just be what he needs





	1. keep me in your glow

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fic that i've somewhat planned out so if it sucks don't yell at me it's new to me!!!!! 
> 
> the song for this chapter is Golden Hour by Kacey Musgraves
> 
> BUT if you wanna yell at me if you LOVE it you can find me at @studionamgi on blue bird app

_ All that I know, Is you caught me at the right time, _ _ Keep me in your glow _

_ 'Cause I'm having such a good time, With you _

park seonghwa isn’t going through an early midlife crisis at the ripe age of twenty-four. he’s _ not, _no matter what wooyoung likes to say.

buying a beach house with a large chunk of the profits he made off his first novels success to crank out his second one at the pressure of his manager in the midst of the biggest writers block he’s ever had is _ not _going through a crisis. 

to go through a crisis he’d have to have a handle on anything going on around him, which he doesn’t. after his last book dropped it’s like park seonghwa he had always been dropped too.

he tried getting him back, needed him back, but all that was left of him was hollow air trapped in skin that felt too tight and nonexistent. he shivers in the may air and grabs the last box. 

hongjoong helps him stuff it into his tiny car even though he, too, thinks seonghwa finally lost his marbles. but who is he to say that buying an entirely new house to simmer in thoughts that you can't wrangle isn’t the right thing to do in the face of an impending book deadline and failure at succeeding. hongjoong looks at seonghwa worried, a face he’s seen enough in the past month enough to become immune. 

yunho leans against the metal beam of seonghwa’s old house, sucking on a lollipop that tints his tongue and lips a deep cherry red that will no doubt end up stained on jongho’s. the black haired boy is talking with mingi who’s complaining about how cramped seonghwa’s attic was because “why couldn’t wooyoung clean it?”.

seonghwa thinks it’s cute how mingi’s hair matches yunho’s lollipop and remembers helping hongjoong use the rest of the red dye on himself, making his bathroom eery with red hues facing him from every surface. he remembers telling hongjoong that matching couple hair colors were cheesy. he remembers seeing hongjoong roll his eyes fondly and agree.

_“yeah,” he had replied before lathering the strawberry colored cream onto his bleached hair, “but you should’ve seen how mingi looked when he suggested it.” _he didn’t understand why that should persuade him to do something so public and embarrassing. he still doesn’t.

seonghwa walks up the steps one last time to fetch his car keys and in doing so walks through san and wooyoung in the throes of an intense dust bunny race that jongho has involuntarily been snatched as a referee for. wooyoung’s blonde hair sticks out in stark contrast to the near black wooden floor boards and it makes it easier for seonghwa to not step on him. 

on his way out he makes eye contact with jongho and sees the silent plea for help in his eyes.

he stops. “hey jongho i think yunho wanted you to help him put my book collection in his car.”

the books were going into hongjoong’s car. 

the brunette sags in relief muttering a quick, “gotta go guys, wooyoung won, sorry”, before all but bolting out the door. it slams behind him.

he huffs out a laugh and ignores the whines from san as wooyoung gloats of his victory over the black haired boy. he doesn’t really have time to settle their fight right now, he has to become a new york times best seller for the second time. he has to find himself. 

the drive to the shore isn’t horrible, it’s barely over an hour and the traffic is sparse, but it is quite boring. the sun is covered by a thick layer of cloud and fog, painting the world in shades of muted grays. yunho almost crashing into a stop sign from being distracted by geese is probably the most exciting thing to happen. 

it’s later in the afternoon when they arrive and an april cold front is threatening to move in so they all work fast and effectively on moving everything into the modest soft green home. seonghwa can’t tell if he likes it. he likes the creaky steps and the wrap around porch. he likes the birds never taking a quiet moment and the waves crashing onto his back yard. he doesn’t like the room it gives his thoughts to turn loud and suffocating. 

“the tides low.” a voice says from behind him, startling him to jump away from the porch railing. he turns to find san staring out at the ocean calmly. 

“yeah.” he says. 

sounds of dishes being put away and laughter ring through the house, but as seonghwa looks back to the waves he feels like the cold front has hit him sooner than the others. he lets the air turn sharp and slice through him, just to feel something.

his chest hurts. a seagull screams. “yeah it is.”

* * *

it’s nearing dark when they finish the majority of seonghwa’s unpacking, sun making its last call for attention through gray clouds and angry waters. he leans his arms on the kitchen island and hisses softly at the icy feeling of it. 

“do you guys want to stay here tonight? it’s dark out and i have a mattress and a pull out couch you could split. unless, of course, you _ want _ to deal with yunho’s snoring on the way back..” seonghwa shoots the last bit to jongho whos lips pout out in thought before nodding. 

hongjoong pauses, eyes catching on a take out menu strewn on the counter. 

“dibs on the mattress.” 

something in seonghwa starts to loosen and breathe at the agreement. 

mingi quips that his ridiculously long legs can’t even make it to the bedding upstairs, “what’s with all the stairs? are you trying to kill me off already?’’ 

hongjoong shakes his head and shoves his boyfriend lightly. seonghwa feels a tendril of something like warmth curl through him. 

yunho leans on the wooden beam of his new house by the glass back door, rolling a fresh lollipop between his teeth and points something out to jongho with a smirk. the brunette whistles loud and high with appreciation before turning to them.

“maybe this beach house thing won’t be all that bad.” 

seonghwa doesn’t immediately realize that it’s him that jongho’s speaking to; too engrossed in his own thoughts of takeout chicken and sides.

wooyoung jerks his gaze across and his sandy yard and giggles, “can i live here too?”

when seonghwa pulls his gaze over to the glass he’s surprised to see a boy he assumes is his new neighbor standing in the glow of the moon and settling his feet into the sand with his head angled towards the stars, pink hair illuminated in the shine, and eyes closed. the lick of warmth he felt earlier blooms into a flame nestled between his ribs.

the boy is beautiful, borderline ethereal. even hongjoong and mingi exchange high brow looks at the stranger standing at the bottom of his stairs. seonghwa walks closer to the door, close enough his breath fogs up the glass slightly. 

san scoffs, “he’s not _ that _hot…” 

wooyoung gasps, “are you kidding me sannie?”

san frowns and pushes his hair back a tad too aggressive and pushes off the counter to trek into the living room, “i’ve seen hotter, is all.”

“WHO? who is more attractive than-“ the high pitched voice trails off as wooyoung follows him. 

a collective sigh falls over the rest of the boys as they resign to listening to the oblivious arguments of wooyoung and san for the remainder of the night.

all except for seonghwa, who is still staring at the bright boy basking against the moon. seonghwa stares until his eyes run dry and when he blinks them back open the boy has returned into his home. 

“hwa! you want spicy or regular?” hongjoong calls to him and normally seonghwa would ask for regular but something in him twists for something more, something_ new _, “spicy. please.” 

seonghwa turns from his reflection and clambers up the stairs to prepare his guest mattress. his thoughts are taken up by the low tide, the stinging air, and how he’s never wanted the lonely cold to seep back into his bones so badly. 

* * *

it’s been a week since seonghwa moved into his home and next door to his mysterious pink haired neighbor and for all his persistence there is no inspiration in his mind. his manager calls a few times, always with a deadline reminder. “august 31st, seonghwa.” he says, on repeat until seonghwa disconnects the phone call. 

spinning in his office chair from pure boredom has become a bad habit for him and brings him to reaching for his ibuprofen bottle more often than not from self inflicted headaches. but he’s not in his old house, he’s not caged in, and wasn’t that the point? wasn’t that supposed to fix everything?

he notices his bangs have grown too far and fall into his eyes irritatingly. he huffs them up and spins to the large windows adorning the beach facing wall. seonghwa checks the clock next to the doors and realizing he’s been staring at a blank screen for two hours decides he might as well take a walk on the along the waves.

he grabs his jacket to protect him from the damp spring chill that lingers around and opens the patio doors to his yard. cool air and the overwhelming smell of salt greets him but he actually likes it, it reminds him of summers his family would spend along the ocean. seonghwa walks out onto the moist sand takes a few minutes to appreciate the soothing waves lapping at his bare feet. 

he walks backwards to the two beach chairs that yunho and mingi _ demanded _he have. they’re simple wooden body chairs that seonghwa himself had stapled thin blue blankets to as a barrier between himself and the brittle wood. he lays down, staring into the vastness of the sea and listening to the calls of the seagulls and somewhere along the way, gets lulled into a sleep. 

it’s the _ pat _ of a raindrop on his cheek and the low words of a stranger that wake him up. 

“unless you’re planning on catching a cold i’d get inside if i were you.” the voice comes from above him as he’s blinking his eyes open to a gray sky and a flash of pink. 

once he manages to use his eyes properly he sees that it’s become darker and the waves have gotten angrier since he fell asleep. from where he can see the sun behind the clouds he assumes it’s nearing dinner time. seonghwa turns his head towards the voice and words he had planned to reply with get stuck in his throat. 

the voice, it turns out, belongs to his neighbor. his very, _ very _, beautiful neighbor.

said neighbor has seemingless flawless pale skin that stands out with his simple back t-shirt and jeans outfit, a stark contrast to his bright splash of pink hair. his eyebrows are raised in amused curiosity and a small smirk makes its way to his face as he sees seonghwa struggle for words.

he sticks out his hand to help seonghwa up, “i’m kang yeosang.” 

seonghwa takes the hand and pulls himself up, “park seonghwa.”

his neighbor - yeosang - smiles lopsided, “nice to meet you, park seonghwa.”

they’re still holding hands when yeosang invites seonghwa to his home for dinner and it’s only when they let go to walk across the windy sand that seonghwa realizes how warm he feels.


	2. who are you in the dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is based off of In The Dark by Camila Cabello

_You can strip down without showing skin, I, I can see you're scared of your emotions_

_I can see you're hoping not hopeless, So why can't you show me? _

warmth isn't something seonghwa is accustomed to. for as long as he can remember there’s been a draft that runs through him no matter the season, or how many layers he’s wearing, or how much coffee he downs fast enough to scald his throat. he’s always felt an empty hole in him where the sun should be and it bothers him and the only time the heat creeps into his body with its ropes of _ home _ and _ comfort, _latching onto his bones and crawling into his heart, are the moments he’s with his friends - his family - and he can forget. 

forget the deadlines and rules and diction and syntax of his life that define him. forget that he’s not the seonghwa who collects plushies and cried when he got stuck on a ferris wheel when he was nineteen anymore, he can’t be. he’s now park seonghwa, the author, the literary genius, the cash cow for his agency, the silent steady man that intimidates those around him. the dragon plushie that resides on his comforter at home disagrees. 

“would you like anything to drink?” so why has this rose-colored boy open the sunroof inside him?

“what? oh- uh- yes! water!” seonghwa manages to stutter out, “..please.” his blush is fire on his cheeks. thunder rubles from outside.

yeosang cracks a grin at his expense, not mean but silently acknowledging seonghwa’s social discomfort, and pulls a bottle of water from his fridge to bring to seonghwa. he sits directly on the counter opposite from seonghwa’s seat.

“so,” he takes a sip, and seonghwa tries not to watch the condensation trail down his fingers, “you’re new and we don’t get many newbies in this neighborhood. what’s up?”

seonghwa tilts his head, “what’s? up?” he tries to grip his bottles lid and finds it impossible due to the wet film over it and his already sweaty hands. 

“yeah what’s up. like why’d you move here? what’s your deal? your sitch? the 411--” seonghwa cuts him off before he can embarrass both of them anymore. the rain starts pouring outside.

“writing! i mean i am, writing, that is, i'm an author i guess and, uh, i don’t know i just needed somewhere new to write and now i’m here so... yeah.” 

yeosang quirks a brow and takes another drink, “an author you guess?” 

“n-no i definitely am, um, have you ever heard of a book called Aurora by any chance?” 

“you’re _ that _park seonghwa? the one with like a billion copies sold?” yeosang lets out a low whistle, eyebrows raised in respect. 

seonghwa looks intently at an ant that crawls across the counter, wishing the earth would swallow him up or at least that the warmth seeping into his skin would cease. a flash of lightning illuminates the kitchen for a moment.

a palm slams down on the ant and seonghwa jumps. “sorry,” yeosang manages to look sheepish while wiping insect flesh off his hand, “i’ve had an ant problem for a few days. thought i got rid of all of them.” he tells seonghwa as he grabs a dish rag to wipe the counter clean of ant corpse. 

“understandable,” seonghwa mumbles, “and closer to 20 million copies, but yeah i’m _ that _park seonghwa.” he sighs and readies himself for the inevitable onslaught of questions about how much money he has and if he would mind giving an autograph.

he hears a slurp. “cool.” yeosang replies and throws his bottle away. “want some pizza?”

seonghwa doesn’t know what to say. he’s had the same friends since junior high and only met mingi and san in college through yunho and wooyoung, he’s never been particularly fluent in making friends since then. he’s never really cared to learn, but something about the way yeosang smiles softly and doesn’t care that he’s sold enough books to build a castle with makes him want to. 

he opens his mouth to maybe, probably, definitely accept his offer when the thunder rolls, the lightning claps, and seonghwa screams. the bright laugh it brings out of yeosang makes the flames licking up his limbs worth it. 

* * *

“so what do you do?” seonghwa asks hours later after yeosang stopped laughing to the point of tears. the pepperoni pizza lays on the coffee table, half eaten and forgotten. seonghwa is more comfortable now that he’s past his embarrassment and feels like anything he does couldn’t be as bad as squealing like a kid in front of your extremely pretty and intimidating neighbor. 

odd candles are lit around them in various places and an overly large camping lantern sits in the middle of the room facing up. the light sends a glow that hits off the reflective surfaces in the living room and gives the illusion of tiny stars dotting the ceiling. 

he thinks he spots yeosang tense for a second but it’s gone before seonghwa can even begin to ponder why. yeosang’s smile is fading when he wipes his grease covered hands on his napkin and clears his throat.

“i dance.” 

“you dance?”

“i dance.” 

seonghwa knows this is only their first meeting and that the answer is vague probably on purpose but he really wants to question the specifics of the other boys answer. 

“what uh.. what kind of dance do you do if you don’t mind me asking?” he asks, even though everyone of his cells is screaming for him not to. 

yeosang pauses and seonghwa thinks he might not answer at all. maybe he’s finally had enough of his awkward silences and even more awkward answers? seonghwa would really hate it if he decided to just kick him out into the storm to make the trek home considering it’d probably kill him with its severity.

“...well,” seonghwa snaps back to reality as soon as yeosang starts speaking, “i used to go to school for ballet but it got too expensive and i had to drop out. now i do a style that’s.. similar.. to ballet, but also very different. think ballet on steroids, yeah? and i guess technically i could be considered a dance instructor? but only technically.” 

yeosang’s smile returns and it’s the kind of smile that seonghwa sees often on himself. the kind of smile that you put on when you desperately want to control something but you’re grasping at straws covered in baby oil and stuck on a seal. the kind of smile where you think if you smile hard enough, bright enough, wide enough that you _ can _control it. 

“enough about work, mr. bestseller. i talk about dance all the time and it’s a super dull topic y’know? 

“i don’t know,” he shrugs, “my friends yunho and mingi used to dance in college and i think it’s really impressive the amount of muscle they put on from it.”

“oh you’d definitely be surprised the muscle you can get.” yeosang smirks to himself, like he’s in on a joke that only he knows. “you mind if i take a smoke? i’ll move to the window seat so it doesn’t blow in your face.”

“you smoke?” seonghwa asks, genuinely surprised. he hadn't smelled a single whiff of cigarettes his whole time in the house, nor had he seen any sign of it on yeosang’s person. yeosang beams like he’s twelve seonghwa just told him he made honor roll. 

“yeah i do. it’s just a bad habit i picked up from college stress. i usually only ever smoke on the beach and throw all my evidence away from the little fishes, gotta save the planet and all that, but obviously,” he gestures out to the raging storm, “that’s not available right now.” 

seonghwa brings his shoulders up in agreement and nods. it would be a real inconvenience to get your cigarette put out before you could even light it. 

“yeah it’s fine with me but if you don’t mind could i actually take the window seat? i uh like watching the rain..” he fades off, embarrassment clouding his voice.

yeosang doesn’t notice, and if he does he thankfully doesn’t comment on it as he rises and walks to the corner of the room where a tall bookcase sits. he reaches into a small bowl places on one of the lower shelves and retrieves a lighter and a pack of cigarettes, shaking it harshly as he walks back to the couch. seonghwa moves up and out of yeosang’s way to let the other man sit in his vacant spot and heads over to the window alcove. 

the rain is still falling heavy and shows no sign of giving seonhwa a slot to make the walk home safely. he swallows and mulls over his options as he hears yeosang’s lighter _ flick _ to life. He could make the fight against mother nature and try to walk home in the downpour but the sea has ridden and laps angrily at the shore higher and higher than he’s comfortable with. More likely, he will have to impose on yeosang’s hospitality until tomorrow morning and although seonghwa would rather pour lemon juice into the paper cuts he’s gathered on his hands, it’s his best bet. 

“what’s your favorite color?” yeosang spontaneously asks, blowing out a curl of smoke casually. He sits with one leg underneath him and the other bent in front of him, used as a table for his arm that holds a cigarette delicately at the end. The other arm rests on the back of the couch holding his head up at an angle that reminds seonghwa of a confused puppy. 

“pink.” seonghwa replies without much thought. He’s sat criss-cross in the comfort of the window, twiddling his thumbs and wondering why yeosang is interested in such mundane things about him, an equally mundane person. 

“pink, huh?” yeosang questions, twirling a strand of his dyed hair, “i make that much of an impact?”

seonghwa chokes on his spit when he realizes the implications of his answer. “no,” he breathes out once he catches his breathe, “no, it just reminds me of happiness i guess. oh my god.” 

“chill out with the no’s, hwa, you could hurt a guys feelings with all that.” he winks takes another drag through his smile.

seonghwa freezes, “hwa?” 

“well yeah. it’s a nickname. friends give nicknames and we are friends, right?,” yeosang’s response is calm on the outside but seonghwa can hear the underlying edge he hasn’t heard from the pink haired boy since he met him in the six hours he’s known him. it sounded achingly similar to worry but that couldn’t be it, right? nothing about yeosang wasn’t a worried person and seonghwa knew that wholeheartedly despite only knowing him for a short time. yeosang especially wouldn’t be worried about him rejecting his friendship because that.. just didn’t make sense. 

seonghwa thinks about his time with yeosang and how he’s the only person besides his friends that kindle a fire in him. He’d like for them to be friends, definitely, but what about when yeosang figures out he’s not worth it? he’s not the exciting millionaire author that can take him exotic places and buy him italy imported wines or specifically bred european dogs, and it’s only a matter of time before yeosang realizes and leaves him in the dust. 

or maybe more, what if he’s homophobic? he certainly doesn’t seem the type but it’s happened to seonghwa before and it always ended with jongho’s fist bleeding through several layers of toilet paper of a club bathroom. what if he kicks him out into the storm and the ocean drags him out with its icy hands and he never gets to feel the warmth bloom to live under his ribs again?

seonghwa’s thoughts yank from his grasp before he can leash them back in and-- “i’m gay.”

seonghwa slaps his hands over his mouth, and raises from his seat, eyes wide with mortification. yeosang blinks and in the angle of the candlelight his eyes look larger and more doe like. he goes to open his mouth but seonghwa has released his own from his palms and cuts him off before he can tell seonghwa to lose it. 

“i mean yes! we are friends! i’d love to be friends with you, neighbor, buddy, pal! it’s just uh, i'm not exciting? i'm not cool and i collect plushies, mostly dragons, and i hate heights and i only learned to swim like two years ago after yunho threw me in the pool and thought i was fake drowning. and i can’t stand the texture of oranges and everyone thinks im weird for it but it’s really just disgusting honestly. there’s also the gay thing too because i _ am _gay, absolutly flaming, but i didn’t mean to spring it on you like that i just got worried that maybe you wouldn’t like that? and i wanted you to now before we became friends and you found out and decided to throw me to the wolves, or sea turtles, whatever you want to say,” seonghwa realizes he’s spilled way too much at this point and feels a blush creep down his body, “so um.. i’m gay.. friend?” 

yeosang blinks again, takes a long drag from his cigarette, and snuffs it out in a tiny glass bowl places on the coffee table. he rises from the couch and walks towards seonghwa’s spot in the middle of the living room. ‘this is it,’ seonghwa panics, ‘this is when he kicks me out into the fucking lightning and i get torched by pikachu’s ass. 

yeosang sticks his hand out, “hey gay, i’m bi, you’re new friend that’s tried to quit smoking seventeen times, still skateboards even though it’s lame even for teenagers, screams at the sight of a spider anywhere, and can’t stand the taste of milk.” 

seonghwa mind reels at the new information. he slowly lends his hand out into yeosang’s slightly clammy grasp and smiles, genuinely, for what feels like the first time in years. 

“i think this is the start of a beautiful friendship, park seonghwa.” 

“me too, kang yeosang,” they shake hands, illuminated by the soft glow of candles and surrounded by the sound of rainfall, “me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this off a desktop computer in the library and feel so embarrassed as i upload this on a very obvious ao3 page surrounded by people so please read, leave comments, kudos, /something/, to make this worth it i beg you.


	3. keep on dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> song for this chapter: Normal by Sasha Sloan

_ I should go, it's getting late, But I'ma keep on dancing 'til I feel okay _

_ So keep on playing that song that I don't like, _

_ I just wanna feel normal for the night _

  
  


dancing was always yeosang’s goal in life. he lived for the adrenaline that pumped through him every time he walked onto a stage, sparking lighter fluid in his veins and turning his head into white noise for those few minutes where he didn’t have to be  _ him _ . he didn’t have to be kang yeosang, son of the richest man in his disgustingly small town. he didn't have to be the perfect son, brother, student. He didn't have to be the nice young man his mother set up on blind dates with daughters of her friends from the country club.

he started out with ballet at age six. his brother had called him gay as they both grew older and learned more than they should have. yeosang didnt know what gay meant then but he knew the vicous sneer on his brothers face when he pointed his knobby prepubescent finger at him and the disapproving yelp from his mother in reply meant he couldn’t, wouldn’t, shouldn’t, be gay. 

he moved on to classical at age twelve. there were plenty of pretty girls in his waltz class, ones that would offer to be his partner a tad too eager and blush a bit too red to be purely friendly. his brother stopped calling him gay. his favorite partner was a girl named chaeyoung. chaeyoung was eleven and didn't mind that he didn't talk a lot or get upset when he didn't hold her hand after the routine was over like the other girls did. chaeyoung’s father was a military man that got restationed some thousands of miles away. yeosang only remembers this because she gave him a kiss the day before she left him behind in the ballroom with the other girls that grabbed him too harsh and giggled in ways that hurt his ears. he thinks about her sometimes and wonders if she thinks about him too.

he switched to contemporary when he was sixteen. his mentor was a boy named yuchan that was two years older than him. yeosang knew what gay was by now, and he knew that he  _ wasn’t _ . hestill liked girls, just not many. after chaeyoung left his lips tingly and smelling of strawberry chapstick he had only ever liked one other girl, yoojung from the skate park he’d sneak off to when his parents fought. he also knew that his skin buzzed when yuchan grabbed his hips to show him proper placement and that his stomach was full of battery acid when he wore crop tops to class. so yeosang did what any dimwitted seventeen year old would do in his situation. he googled for an AM I GAY? quiz on incognito at 2 am. the results were little more than the bold faced word BISEXUAL staring back at him. so he googled more and more and more, until it was two am and his eyes burned from lack of sleep and tears left un-shed. he didn’t want to be bisexual, if only for the fact that his family would eviscerate him.

yeosang stayed in contemporary though, stayed through the torture of yuchan existing and his traitor bodily reactions. he only left when he was eighteen and his father found him undressed with yuchan. his brother called him gay, his mother stayed silent, and his father’s slap hurt a lot less than his words. 

dance was always a piece of yeosang. he just didn't think it would be like this.

“that’s right baby!” a less than sober business man shouts from the left of the stage as yeosang, clad in only fishnets and jeans so ripped they were more hole than cloth, hooks his left foot around the cold metal pole and spins his lean body around to give the men clamouring for him the view they came for.

it’s nearing 2 am which means he’s in the last half hour of his shift at Sweet & Salty. slowly dropping into the splits with his hands only releasing the pole to come down in front of him, yeosang leans his torso down until his nipples brush the stage and begin to harden. the young man directly in front of him, not much older than himself, visibly gulps as his buddies laugh and hoot around him. 

‘bachelor party,’ yeosang thinks to himself, noticing the sash around his body, ‘definitely bachelor party.’

yeosang pushes his chest up to arch his back and crawls forward a bit until his legs come together and he’s close enough to the bachelor in front of him to see a glint of drool. he smirks, spinning around his legs until his feet are on either side of the man’s table. because the best part of his outfit isn’t the holes lining up his thighs, or the subtle sparkling fishnets underneath. no, the best part is the set of simple black platform stilettos adorning him. 

“what’s your name, doll?” yeosang asks him innocently, tucking a stray dollar bill into the waistband of his jeans.

“it’s uh— fuck it’s johnny.” he stutters out and for a moment yeosang is brought back to memories of black wind swept hair and a candlelit smile. he pushes it into the attic of his brain; he’s still on the clock.

yeosang leans forward, showing off the glitter sprinkled along his pectorals, “well, johnny,” he smirks and casts his eyes along johnny’s frame, “did you enjoy my show?” 

“y-yes sir- i mean- oh fuck this. yeah i enjoyed the hell out of it.” yeosang giggles, delighted. 

“actually you know what? here. so you know just how much i enjoyed it.” johnny stands as the last round of the night is called and the stage is being swept. 

he pulls out his wallet and retrieved a bill he places in yeosang’s dainty hand. it’s a $50. it’s been a while since he’s had a customer give him this large of an amount.

“well well well. i hope you’ll be coming back to visit again.. sir.” he winks and notices the light blush that splashes across the man's cheeks. 

“pleasure meeting you…”

“cupid,” yeosang supplies, “and trust me, the pleasure is all mine.” he curls his fingers around the money and slowly dips it into his front pocket. 

johnny pauses, too thrown off to speak, until one of his buddies comes to save him. 

“heyyyy,” the half drunk man starts, “we’ve gotta get johnny boy back to his fiaaaaaanceeeee before he busts an archery—“

“artery.” johnny interrupts.

“yeaaaah that. you were reaaaaal good up there though mr. cupid. almost made me hard and i’m not even ltgb.” he giggles loudly at his own mess up. 

“sorry we’ll just be going now. c'mon mark you’re embarrassing yourself. again.” johnny chastises as he herds his friend, mark, to the rest of the group waiting at the door. 

yeosang watches them go with a small amused smile gracing him. he doesn’t get many nearly wholesome interactions like that around here very often, not that he’d expect to, but it’s always a fresh breath of clean air when he gets it. 

“hey there, cupid,” a voice calls from behind yeosang, “wanna get over here and help me keep this gentleman company?” 

he turns to find his co-worker chanyeol’s mop of bright red hair standing behind an expensive looking client who looks all too eager to empty his pockets for the two of them. yeosang subtly rolls his eyes at the stupid smirk chanyeol has and if he wasn’t so fond of the lanky whore he’d have told him to fuck off by now. however, chanyeol is kind and somewhat funny and lets him make up increasingly difficult duo routines for them after his shift so helping him with a double lapdance every once and a while to rake in tips is a necessary evil. 

he plasters on an artificially sultry smile and hops down from the stage, “i’d love to.” 

he sways his hips a little extra on the walk to the man’s table, if only to see the way his gaze glues to them. yeosang bends down a tad to meet the man’s eyes, taking the few seconds he has to gather what kind of persona this one needs. the short breaths and flickering eyes tell him everything he needs to know. he looks up to chanyeol.

“what’s his name, cherry?” he asks chanyeol instead of the man himself, knowing that by disregarding and degrading him he could make it out of this shift with rent covered in full. “namjoon. seems he snagged a job offer today and decided to celebrate.”    
  
yeosang stands up to full height and looks at the man before him, “well we wouldn’t want to disappoint him before his little job starts, would we?” 

he grabs namjoon’s tie and pulls him up and towards a private room where the two of them can give him a real show. chanyeol follows close enough behind namjoon to make him shiver with body heat. he shoves him into the love seat against the wall and they take places standing on either side of him. namjoon looks positively faded on endorphins. 

“cherry?” he asks.

“hmm?” chanyeol replies huskily, leaning down to run a hand over namjoon’s shoulder and arm. yeosang internally sighs, always a tease. “wanna go first?” 

“no, i think i’d like to enjoy the view with mr. kim here.” his hand travels through the man's hair, nails dragging along his scalp. 

“alright i’ll make it fast,” yeosang turns his back to the paid and drops his ass low, only to curve it up when he stands, making sure namjoon gets the full view of his netted thighs flexing with muscle, “i don’t know how long this one can last.” 

chanyeol giggles, “looks like he could cum in his pants any second. how cute.” 

“wouldn’t be the first time we’ve made that happen.” yeosang smirks at that namjoon’s sharp inhale. 

* * *

“see ya tomorrow, sang.” chanyeol calls from his truck, now fully dressed in a regular black pant-black hoodie ensemble. 

yeosang waves, too busy plugging in his headphones to find the energy to call back to him.

_ So keep on playing that song that I don't like _

_ I just wanna feel normal for the night _

he hums and shoves his phone into his jean pocket, starting the short walk home. it’s nights like this, when he doesn’t leave the club until three in the morning, that he’s all the more grateful for the small distance. 

the air is cool and windy on the skin under his t-shirt and he welcomes the chill taking away the sweat he gathered from work. yeosang always liked the walk home, it gave him time to think and count his tips from the night, except he’s already counted the $300 he earned tonight from tips alone. 

he smiles recalling the bachelor party and the gracious tip namjoon left him. It's not that yeosang doesn't enjoy being a stripper, because he does, it’s just some nights are more enjoyable than others. yeosang enjoys the rush of power he gets on stage, spinning around the cool pole until his thighs burn and ache. he enjoys watching men and women calling for him, reaching for him, wanting him. but lately, he can’t seem to keep his endearingly shy neighbor off his mind. 

after they had professed their deep seated hatred for the texture and taste of oranges, milk, and casserole - because what the  _ fuck -  _ the storm had yet to die down. yeosang had taken him to the small guest room at the top of the stairs and let him know if he needed anything he would be on the other side of the bathroom, probably watching bulldog skateboarding videos before bed. 

seonghwa had flushed and given out several ‘thank you’s’ as he laid the spare clothes yeosang had lent him on the bed. the next morning the sky was clear and the seagulls were screaming along the shore as though satan hadn’t just barreled through the coastline. 

_ Keep on kissing that guy that's not my type _

_ I just wanna feel normal for the night _

they had eaten a cereal breakfast in comfortable silence, neither completely awake at the early hour and seonghwa had swiftly left afterwards, seemingly in a hurry to return to his writing. yeosang had watched his scurry across the damp sand and giggled when he stumbled over the seaweed. 

they had a few interactions since that storm a week ago, mostly consisting of yeosang waving and seonghwa awkwardly returning it, making yeosang chuckle at his nervous energy. yeosang hadn’t had many friends in the three years since he had moved to the coast. his closest companion would most likely be chanyeol and even they didn’t hang out many times out of work, and never at either of their houses. he’s convinced it’s because chanyeol’s boyfriend is some ridiculously rich sugar daddy he’s hiding away but the red haired man always laughs and shakes his head when it’s brought up. 

seonghwa coming into his home and keeping him company he actually enjoyed and felt comfortable in was new territory for yeosang. it scared him a little. everyone in yeosang’s life had left and kicked him while he was down. he didn’t want to assume seonghwa would do the same but he also didn’t want to get lured into a sense of security only to have his world yanked out from underneath him again. not after ten. 

yeosang turns the corner and the side cement sidewalk of the city turns into wooden boards that foreshadow the ocean view. he sighs and spins his keys around his finger. 

_ I should go, it's getting late _

_ But I'ma keep on dancing 'til I feel okay _

ten was his first boyfriend he had when he moved down to the shore. he was kind and funny and his eyes sparkled when he smiled. yeosang had been infatuated with him from the very beginning and followed him like a lost puppy, something ten enjoyed. without him noticing, however, he began changing for ten. first it was dying his then blonde hair to its natural black, then it was becoming small and meek for him, and the last straw was only when ten demanded yeosang quit his job to spend more time with him. 

his job, while it had its downsides like every job, was only link to dancing. he was too broke to afford dance school and there was no way in hell his family would ever help him. he kicked ten out after a year, dyed his hair pink, and took extra shifts at the club. 

yeosang walked until he came into view of his house. he takes off his sneakers when he gets to the divide between the ground and the boards. the sandy grass of his yard feels cool between his toes and he breathes in a sigh as he cranes his head towards the moon's glow. 

yeosang opens his eyes to take one last look at it before he walks across the sand to his front porch. he really needs a shower to wash off the germs and sweat of desperate men clawing at him. he ends up sitting on his couch and gently falling asleep to the calm tones of his music. 

_ So keep on playing that song that I don't like _

_ I just wanna feel normal for the night _


	4. and your heart's against my chest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> seonhghwa takes a swim and realizes a few things
> 
> chapter song: Kiss Me by Ed Sheeran

_ i was made to keep your body warm, _

_ but i'm cold as the wind blows so hold me in your arms _

in the weeks after seonghwa met yeosang and started their newfound friendship he’s made some discoveries.

like how it’s incredibly easy to sit on his back deck with the pink haired man, typing away at his novel with words that flow with a grace he’s never possessed before and doesn’t know if he ever can again. or how yeosang feeds the stray beach cats and has lead to said cats wandering onto seonghwa’s property in search of their saviour. or how in the week that turned april to may the air turned warmer and the sun shone brighter, but maybe it’s just him, because yeosang still wears his extra long coat whenever they sit along the shore for his one smoke a day. he also knows yoesang thinks seonghwa’s useless muttering of plots and spontaneous research on bottlenose dolphins is quite entertaining. 

“they’re gonna be dolphins that can  _ talk _ , sang, and they’re gonna fall in lov--”

“now hold on, park. are you telling me you’re writing about dolphin furries in my presence?”

seonghwa hesitates, “well no. i mean they’re not furries because that would mean they were humans’ dressed up as dolphins that could talk and that’s definitely not the plot. that’s just dumb.”

“right,” yeosang nods, poker face set, “and dolphins that talk and fall in love is far more riveting you’re right i’m sorry.” seonghwa smiles into his marine life book and scuttles down deeper into the beach chair.

“it’s not me you need to apologize to yeosangie.” he quips, nodding to the sea calmly lulling in front of them before returning to his book. 

the silence that meets him gives him reason to look over to his friend. yeosang looks pensive, chewing the inside of his lip before throwing his legs over the side of the chairs they’ve been laying on for nearly an hour. “alright.”

seonghwa startles, “wh-- alright?” yeosang nods and takes off his socks, discarding them next to his sneakers on the sand. 

“oh my god you’re not actually going to go in,” seonghwa asks in disbelief as yeosang takes off towards the waves, “kang yeosang get back here!”

but it’s too late and seonghwa had known it as soon and the other had taken off his shoes. he laughs when yeosang’s body meets the waves and falls victim to its mass; laughs louder when he pops his head up to yell at the water. 

yeosang turns to him, smile large and wild like the ocean and it feels like something put a magnifying glass over him. “c’mon park! the waters just right!”

seonghwa shakes his head in disbelief, an airy laugh punching out of his chest weakly. “no way in hell, sang!”

“your loss i guess!” yeosang calls before falling back in the arms of the sea. the birds screech above them and seonghwa takes a moment to watch them fly around, wishes he could be up there with him. wishes he could understand the sensation of pure unadulterated freedom. 

a voice next to his ear brings him out of his daydream, “think fast.” 

“oof!” seonghwa falls into the damp sand with a large body, stupid yeosang, atop him and the birds are gone. before he can ponder the warmth emitting from the other boy he feels hands grip his sides and drag him towards the waves and he sees his plan.

“sang no.”

nothing but a grin answers him.

“yeosang no!”

extra nothing, except the huff of air yeosang lets out. the water tickles his toes.

“kang yeosang if you do this you can kiss the turtle i’m writing named after you goodby—“

cold. the water is cold. the summer hasn’t set in and the water hasn’t been heated. that’s okay, seonghwa’s been cold his whole life; he can wait for it to warm. his lungs burn and salt stings his eyes but he likes the pain. he likes the water pounding over his head and all around him and the seaweed tickling his feet as he kicks. it reminds him he’s still alive and he doesn't want it to stop.

the edges of his vision are blurring and growing darker when hands reach through the choppy water to snake around his waist and pull up. the air is colder than the water and it cuts against his face like glass shards and he just wants to go back under into the ocean’s warmer embrace. his eyes close and he can feel the water clogging his throat slightly and coughs as best he can, proper air just out of reach.

lips press to his and air pushes past his tongue and down his throat, releasing the water's pressure and letting him cough the rest up. mouth to mouth, his brain registers. he realizes yeosang's body is pressed securely against his still and feels all sound except the thrumming of his heart in his ears fade away. 

“-hwa? seonghwa can you hear me? oh fuck do not die on me right now, park, i can't kill a new york times best seller. i definitively can't have basically kissed a dead guy.. who’s gonna feed the cats?”

seonghwa can't help it. he laughs. his howling laughter carries over the waves and the birds and makes his torso cramp with pain but he can't stop. not when he almost drowned because the water was so warm. Not when yeosang is looking at him with something akin to a fond confusion. yeosang, who befriended him, who brought him outside, who quite literally dragged him into the water, and then saved him from it, who worries about the lives of stray cats before himself. yeosang who stubs out cigarettes into a heart shaped ashtray and lets seonghwa steal his window seat to let the rain spray sprinkle onto his face and get the cushions all wet. yeosang who twirls around sand with the beach cats and laughs like it’s his first. yeosang who has pink hair and won’t dye it until he deems something important enough to change it. 

yeosang who has secrets and respects seonghwa’s darker days where he can’t be dragged to the beach and simply curls up under a scorching blanket fort with him because it’s the only way he can feel warm. 

yeosang, who seonghwa might love just a little. he stops laughing. he sits up, away from yeosang's body heat, and gulps in air. 

yeosang frowns, “are you okay?” his hand rubs up and down between seonghwa’s shoulder blades and leave fire where his fingers trail. 

he nods, “i’m peachy for someone who almost drowned don’t worry.” 

he looks up at the clouds and the gray sky and wonders how long he’s been in love with his tiny neighbor. yeosang winces in his peripheral. 

“shit yeah stupid question. we should get you to your house, hwa. take a shower and maybe eat some soup.” 

“soup?” seonghwa quirks a brow, cheeks heating due to the others' close proximity.

“well yeah,” yeosang says affronted, “soup is great. it heals everything, park. i don't know how they do things in the big city but here we used soup for everything from near death experiences to engine oil so--”

“you don't know what to do.”

yeosang slumps, “..i don't know what to do.”

seonghwa chuckles, strained as it may be, ignores the pain that ripples through his stomach, and dusts the sand off his pants to stand. 

“i’ll be fine sang, honest. it really wasn't even that bad.” 

yeosang pouts his lips and shakes his head, sighing, “stupid, just plain stupid, park. c’mon lets get you in inside before your toes crumble in the wind.”

seonghwa laughs but lets the pink haired boy push him up the sand. he's not planning on discussing the mouth to mouth, and he doesn't think yeosang is either by the blush remaining on his ears and the determined way he keeps the conversation on getting seonghwa home and rested. they pause next to the beach chairs and he watches as yeosang bends to retrieve his marine biology book. seonghwa’s staring, he knows he is, and isn’t surprised to be called out when yeosang turns back to catch him in the act, head cocked in confusion.

“what?”

“nothing,” he smiles, “absolutely nothing.”

the walk back to his home isn’t long but there’s a dull ache in his legs from kicking through the water and he thinks that soup is starting to sound kind of promising. one of the stray cats he’s named, honey, sits on the deck waiting for them. 

she meows loudly at the sight of them and he simply huffs a chuckle and rubs his hand through her fur before yeosang can reply to her.

“not now, honey can’t you see he’s in dire need of medical attention?” 

and seonghwa laughs until it hurts again, at the ridiculousness of a grown man talking to a cat about an emergency that doesn’t exist. he laughs at the way honey looks so human when she hunches down and meows softly after the scolding. he laughs because if he forgets the cat, and who he is, and what he can’t have, he can almost imagine he’s the one yeosang’s is calling honey. and he can imagine that the lips on him weren't out of necessity but out of want instead.


End file.
